Role Model
by Julius Nimin
Summary: Growing up can be tough. Conflicting emotions, changing body, the inevitable clash of ideals and opinions. Most of us have some form of template to follow; a role model. Now, if your role model is a murderous highly intelligent freak-of-nature viral abomination with dangerous anarchistic views, where does that leave you?


Fraud. Scum. Liar. These are words that a proper politician does not want to have connected to them, no matter how true they are. A lot of time and money is spent keeping those allegations away from the public. Meticulously planned speeches of interchangeable meanings can only do so much, so a proper façade has to be formed to truly throw those allegations in the bin.

Family man, struggling single parent, loving truthful spirit. These are things that would be completely invalidated would one small piece of information be released.

An illegitimate child.

The political fallout would be devastating.

Suddenly all of that hard work trying so hard to look like a decent man is immediately undone like pulling on a bow tie. Suddenly the illegitimacy of the child is mirrored towards the father, and his personal illegitimacy.

The more this thought ran through the head of the Viscount, the louder and louder his mind kept shouting a very accurate, if crude statement.

_Fuck. My. Life._

High above the clouds in the Sabaton tower, within the luxurious office of the Viscount, Viscount Calah wonders what he can do. His political reputation is too delicate to openly admit to the child being his. He can't just abandon the child or give it to an orphanage; it could be traced back to him. That would be even worse; Viscount's abandoned illegitimate child. The inevitable fallout would be massive.

He can't possibly keep the child either. Surely someone would notice the child, and even if they didn't, the child would probably let that little fact slip at some point.

-Unless of course the child could not speak to people outside of the tower. But he can't just lock the kid up for an entire childhood.

…Could he?

Before he could finish his line of thought, the double doors to his office were abruptly opened. A male figure approached, shadowed by the light of the antechamber behind him.

"What is the meaning of this? Do you have any idea what time it is? There are no appointments-" Viscount Calah sputtered to the man, before he cut him off.

"Please relax, Viscount. I have a proposition I believe you will like." The man said calmly, as the doors behind him shut.

The Viscount, without the distracting light from the antechamber, could now see the dreamkeeper in detail. He wore a sharp black suit, with a white dress shirt and black tie. He is furless seemingly everywhere except the hair on his head. His eyes are a piercing ice blue, so bright and reflective in color it gave the illusion that they are glowing. His hair is dark brown, verging on black. His visible skin is pale beige, and while Viscount Calah has not seen many dreamkeepers that look like him, it does appear to be sickly.

"A proposition? I don't know you and you have no appointment. How did you get in he-"

"It involves your illegitimate child that you are most probably fretting over." The man cuts him off.

Viscount Calah stares at the man in stunned silence, before composing himself.

"What do you know about this?" The Viscount calmly asks.

"Probably more than you, honestly. Relax; I'm not here to blackmail you." The man says, putting his hands up in mock surrender. His eyes never left the Viscount's gaze.

The way they focused in on him, analyzed him, like he is constantly sizing him up. The Viscount's hand unconsciously hovered near the silent alarm under his desk.

"Then what exactly are you here for?" The Viscount replied, giving his best poker face.

"I'm hoping to solve your problem." The man said simply, pacing towards the extravagant fountain on the right side of the room.

"What exactly do you mean by 'solve my problem'?" The Viscount asks warily. Something about this man just does not sit well with him.

"I'll put this in the simplest terms I possibly can." The man glanced away from the fountain, back at the Viscount. "I will take the child, and raise it as my own." The man said, giving a well-meaning grin. The way the man's eyes gazed at the Viscount, however, made the grin only seem creepy.

The Viscount raised an eyebrow.

"I don't believe it to be that simple, mister…"

"Alex. Alex Mercer." Alex turned to fully face the Viscount.

"-and yes, it is that simple. Of course some strings will have to be pulled on your part, getting proper documentation to show that it is my child, a cover story about the mother-"

"What exactly are you getting out of this?" The Viscount jumped to the point.

Alex raised an eyebrow at the Viscount.

"A child, of course." Alex said simply. Before the Viscount could reply, he continued.

"There are other reasons, but I assure you the child will receive no ill treatment. I also assure you that your secret is safe with me." Alex finished.

The Viscount narrowed his eyes.

"How am I to be certain it-"

"She." Alex cut off.

"What?"

"The child is female." Alex answered simply.

"…How am I to be certain that she will not be abused in any way?" The Viscount asked.

Alex grinned in response.

"Surprising. I figured you would be more worried about your political standing rather than the child's well being. Maybe you do have some redeeming qualities." Alex said with surprise in his voice.

Before the Viscount could reply, Alex spoke again.

"My record is squeaky clean. Besides that, I can only offer you my word."

The Viscount remained silent for a few seconds before Alex spoke.

"I understand your suspicion. A stranger barges into your office in the middle of the night asking you to hand over your child. But I assure you, this is for the best."

The Viscount is unconvinced.

"Why my child? Why don't you just adopt a child from an orphanage?" The Viscount asked.

"A valid point. But have you even seen the child?"

The Viscount shook his head.

"Well, she resembles me a little bit more than most dreamkeepers. I want the impression that she is biologically mine."

The Viscount was silent. His right hand on his sizable chin, he thought about the decision. After a minute of silence, Alex spoke again.

"I understand that this decision requires thought as well as a background check. I will give you time to sleep on it. I expect you to contact me should the decision be yes. If not, then I will leave you be." Alex said.

He then walked towards his office double doors, looking back.

"Out of curiosity, what are -or were- you going to name her?" Alex asks.

The Viscount looks at his hands, thinking.

He hadn't even decided what to name the child would be should he decide to keep her. What does this say about him? He didn't even stop to think that this is someone's entire life he could be using as a bargaining chip. What would her name be?

The Viscount's eyes gaze back at Alex.

"Namah."

Alex remains in silence for a few seconds, with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Namah Mercer. It has a ring to it." Alex says, grinning as he opens the double doors.

He looks back.

"It's been a pleasure, Viscount Calah."

And with that, he was gone.

The Viscount sighed heavily.

He drew a bottle of fermentae and a shot glass from his desk.

His decision needs sleep.

But his stress needs a stiff drink.

* * *

Alex looked inside of a pink crib, at the little pink being that resides within.

The dreamkeeper child is hairless, with pink skin. Dark purple markings round her eyes and around her chin. Her eyes are very large and green, the pupils mere dark green slits. Her eyes are highly reflective, appearing to glow like the moon while even a small source of light is nearby. The little tail is already taller than its newborn body, and it's tipped with an arrow. The child also has tiny, dull horns. Must have been fun for the mother during labor.

Alex chuckled at his bit of dark humor. The child reacted, reaching its small four fingered hand towards Alex.

"Well, if all goes according to plan, your little impressionable mind will be mine." Alex said to the child. He quickly shook his head, realizing how unintentionally evil that sounded.

"Not that I'm going to indoctrinate you or anything. It's just- Christ I'm talking to a newborn." Alex rolled his eyes at his disturbingly human moment of weakness. It won't remember this conversation anyway.

Alex glanced away, and back at the child who is still intently watching him.

"You know, you actually look kind of cute." Alex chuckled.

"Considering that I don't have a human or dreamkeeper maternal instinct, I'd say that's pretty impressive." Alex said, the child still gazing at him.

The child squeaked at him.

"That's right kid. You just got a viral abomination of nature, a certified killing machine to call you cute. Don't let it go to your head."

Alex released a breath of air he doesn't need.

"I'd hate to think what your life will be like if he says no to my little proposition."

* * *

**Well, here is an avatar of my self indulgence. Not that it matters; this will probably only ever be read by like two or three people. But it's self indulgence anyway so I don't care. I'll write it anyway. Please note that this fiction assumes you know a bit about Dreamkeepers, as well as the basic premise of Prototype.**

**Now here are some questions you are probably (not) asking yourself;**

**Q: Prototype and Dreamkeepers? How the hell did you make that connection?**

**A: Cocaine and cocaine accessories.**

**Q: What the hell is Dreamkeepers?**

**A: A brilliant graphic novel saga that I have recently found myself absorbed into. If you haven't yet, I urge you to check it out. The first two volumes can be read for free on the site, and there is a web comic about the four main character's childhoods. Plus it has some brilliant world building. –and no, it's not just for furries. Otherwise I would not be a reader.**

**Q: What the hell is Prototype?**

**A: A brilliant game about a government conspiracy surrounding a deadly virus that is released in Penn Station, Manhattan. There is a lot more, but it would take quite a while to properly explain. I love this game for its great plot and fantastic fridge logic.**

**Q: Isn't Alex Mercer dead?**

**A: Yes, he died in Penn Station when he released the Blacklight virus. If you mean ZEUS, the impersonator of Alex, then he rebuilt himself from the biomass of an infected crow after being blown up by a nuke.**

**Q: I mean James Heller killed him in the sequel, right?**

**A: WHAT SEQUEL? I DO NOT HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT.**

**Q: Wasn't Alex evil in the second game?**

**A: Uhg. Okay, the sequel is not included in this. This fiction assumes the sequel never happened. Why? Because the plotline was so disgustingly bad and confused, as well as contradictory towards the first game. It's like the developers didn't even read the footnotes of the first game. I like to just sit in my apartment with my legs crossed, meditate, and wipe that pathetic excuse of a sequel from my mind forever. Remember kids; denial is the answer!**

**Q: Why is Alex inside the dreamworld?**

**A: Well, I hope that like a good Doctor Who episode, all will be explained in the end.**

**Q: How did you make that god-awful cover art?**

**A: Confidence, a can of beer, and a big mustache… also Paint Dot Net.**

**Well, to all one of you that read this far, the next update will come eventually. It's hard to predict with work and what not.**

**Oh, and chapters will be longer. This is the prologue, after all. I estimate roughly 5,000 words a chapter.**


End file.
